stand.

"He is my lawful son."

"Ah! then you have gone to Parliament and had him legitimatized? That
is royal on your part, believe me."

"The son of my wife, Monsieur."

"Then, what the devil . . . !"

"And when Monsieur de Leviston accused my son of not knowing who his
mother was," continued the old man, coldly and evenly, which signified
a deadly wrath, "you laughed."

"Certainly I did not weep." D'Herouville did not know the caliber of
the man he was speaking to. He merely expected that the marquis would
request him to apologize.

"My son has challenged you?" with the same unchanging quiet.

"He has; but I have this day advised him not to wear out his voice in
that direction, for certainly I shall not cross swords with him."

"You are very discreet," dryly.

"And I shall make no apologies."

"Apologies, Monsieur! Can one offer an apology for what you have done?
Besides, it is said that my son is magnificent with the rapier and
would accept the apology of no man."

"Bah! That is a roundabout way of calling me a coward."

"I was presently coming to the phrase bluntly. If I were not seventy;
if I were young," as if musing.

"Well," truculently, "if you were young?"

The marquis's bold and fearless eyes sparkled with fire. "I am an old
man; vain wishes are useless. You are a coward, Monsieur; one of the
coarser breed; and I say to you if my son had not challenged you or had
accepted an apology, I would disown him indeed. As you will not fight
him, and as apologies are out of the question . . . Here, Monsieur;
there is equal light, and we are alone."

"I do not kill old men."

"Then listen: I apply to you the term De Leviston applied to my son."

"Monsieur, retract that!"

Their shoulders brushed and glowing eyes looked into glowing eyes.

"Bah! In my fifties I killed more men of your kidney than I am proud
of. Retract? I never retract;" and the marquis snapped his fingers
under D'Herouville's nose.

D'Herouville slapped the marquis in the face. "Your age, Monsieur,
will not save you. No man shall address me in this fashion!"

"Not even my son, eh, Monsieur? There is still blood in your muddy
veins, then? Come to my room, Monsieur; no one will see us there. And
you will not be subjected to the evils of the night air and the dew;"
and the calm old man waved a hand toward the lights which shone from
the windows of his room above.

"You have brought this upon yourself," said